A theme of the age, at least in the developed world, is that people crave silence and can find none. The roar of traffic, the ceaseless beep of phones, digital announcements in buses and trains, TV sets blaring even in empty offices, are an endless battery and distraction. The human race is exhausting itself with noise and longs for its opposite—whether in the wilds, on the wide ocean or in some retreat dedicated to stillness and concentration. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his refuge in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian explorer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where both have tried to escape.
And yet, as Mr Corbin points out in "A History of Silence", there is probably no more noise than there used to be. Before pneumatic tyres, city streets were full of the deafening clang of metal-rimmed wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before voluntary isolation on mobile phones, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not leave their wares in a mute pile, but advertised them at top volume, as did vendors of cherries, violets and fresh mackerel. The theatre and the opera were a chaos of huzzahs and barracking. Even in the countryside, peasants sang as they drudged. They don’t sing now.
What has changed is not so much the level of noise, which previous centuries also complained about, but the level of distraction, which occupies the space that silence might invade. There looms another paradox, because when it does invade—in the depths of a pine forest, in the naked desert, in a suddenly vacated room—it often proves unnerving rather than welcome. Dread creeps in; the ear instinctively fastens on anything, whether fire-hiss or bird call or susurrus of leaves, that will save it from this unknown emptiness. People want silence, but not that much. | Watu hutamani ukimya, bado hawatatizwi na ukimya huo, Mchumi Dhamira ya tangu zamani, angalau katika dunia iliyoendelea, ni kwamba watu hutamani ukimya lakini hawawezi wakaupata. Migurumo ya magari, mikwaruzo ya simu isiyokoma, matangazo ya kidijitari katika mabasi na magari ya moshi, kelele kubwa zitokazo kutoka kwa maruninga hata katika maofisi matupu, ni shambulio na vurugu zisizoisha. Jamii ya binadamu huwa inajichosha na kelele na hutamini kinyume chake- kama ni jangwani, katika maziwa mapana au katika faragha zilizotengwa ili kupata utulivu na umakinifu. Alain Corbin, profesa wa historia, anaandika kutoka kwa ngome yake kule Sorbonne, na Erling Kagge, mtafiti wa KiNorwe, kutoka kwa kumbukumbu zake za uharibifu wa Antarctica, ambako wote wawili wamejaribu kutoroka. Na bado, kama vile Bw Corbin anavyosema katika ''A History of silence'', kuna uwezekano kwamba hakuna kelele nyingi kama ilivyokuwa hapo mwanzoni.Kabla ya tairi hewa, mitaa katika miji ilikuwa imejaa mikwaruzo mikali ya magurudumu ya chuma na njumu kwa mawe. Kabla ya utengano wa kujitolea ulioletwa na simu tamba, mabasi na magari ya moshi yalikuwa yamejaa kelele za mazungumzo. Wauzaji wa magazeti hawakuziwacha bidhaa zao katika rundo tuli kama wamezipanga, bali walizitangaza kwa sauti ya juu, wachuuzu wa cheri, matundu ya urujuani and una safi walifanya hivyo hivyo. Vyumba vya maonyesho ya sanaa na opera vilikuwa vimejaa vurugu za kila aina. Vijijini pia, maskini waliimba huku wakifanya kazi za sulubu. Siku hizi hawaimbi. Kile ambacho kimebadilika sawa sio sana kiwango cha kelele, ambacho jamii za hapo awali zililalamikia, bali kiwango cha vurugu, ambacho kimechukua nafasi ambayo inaweza vamiwa na ukimya. Lakini sasa kuna kweli kinzani nyingine, kwa sababu unapovamia- kule ndani ya msitu wa msonobari, katika jangwa lililo wazi, katika chumba ambacho kimehamwa kwa haraka - mara nyingi huwa wa kuogofya badala ya kukaribishwa. Hofu hutanda: sikio nalo hutegwa ili linase chochote kile, kiwe ni sauti ya moto au mlio wa ndege au susuru ya majani, ambacho kitaliokoa kutokana na upweke huu usiodhihirika. Watu hupenda ukimya, lakini sio ukimya mwingi. |